Prodigy
by We'reAllALittleMadHere
Summary: Katara has recently taken up ballet to compliment her waterbending (not that she needs it). Aang approves :)


**Hello, lovelies; if you've seen this before on another account I didn't rip off somebody else and they didn't rip my off. I had another account before this one and I forgot the password to it .-. My badd... **

Katara draped her fingers across the wooden bar at her left side. She moved her feet beneath her so that her heels kissed and her right arm positioned itself in a soft arc, her hand just level with her belly button: first position.

She plied, bending her knees as she attempted to keep the arches of her feet on the floor, her bottom pulled underneath her spine, and her shoulders relaxed at the same time. The hard tips of her pointe shoes encasing her feet resisted the change and pressed against her toes. Sweat trickled down her temples and across her cheeks, eventually slipping down the slope of her neck to her shoulders.

She'd been at this for hours, slowly changing positions at the bar, perfecting leaps or assemblesacross the floor, studying herself carefully in the huge mirror on the opposite wall with her eyes pealed for mistakes. Madame Sing eyed Katara from her perch on the stone bench at the end of the room.

Ballet was not easy, on any level; there was always something to be fixed, some hair out of place. The workouts were long and grueling, but they improved Katara's waterbending greatly, just like Paku had said during one of his visits to Ba Sing Se two years. Katara's curiosity had finally gotten the better of her and six weeks later she was spending more time at Madame Sing's studio than anywhere else. She found that she loved the art from the minute she started, even if she came back to the home the Gaang shared at absurd hours with sore muscles and angry cramps in her feet.

Waterbending would always be her favorite, though; there was no way to describe the power she felt as she bent the element to her command (no pun intended). She belonged in the water and nowhere else, but recently, Katara had decided that if she'd been born a non-bender, she would have become a ballerina. She was well on her way to becoming one now.

When she had first started training with Madame Sing, Katara had been put in a class with beginners around her age. After about a month, the former ballerina decided to give Katara private lessons because she obviously had talent when it came to ballet. Her waterbending transferred to the art as the art transferred to her waterbending, improving her ability to excel in both at the same time. In about a year, Katara was in her first pair of pointe shoes. She wore them proudly around the studio.

Now, as she finished her cool down with a graceful flourish of her arms, Madame Sing clapped quietly from the corner, "Well done, Katara! You're performance tomorrow night will surely be a spectacle! Go and pack your things; you are free to go home whenever you wish."

"Thank you, Madame Sing." Katara bowed as she would to a teacher, like Sifu Paku. Madame Sing had always preferred "Madame" to Sifu, though. She told her students it made her feel more important. However, she never tired of the bowing.

Katara skipped from studio to gather her things in the dressing rooms. She sat on the stone bench next to her bag (Sokka's old green satchel he had bought in Gaoling) and untied the ribbons at her ankles, gratefully shedding her pink satin pointe shoes. Sighing as she flexed her toes, Katara removed the lamb's wool from the shoes and packed everything away in her bag and then settled the strap on her shoulder as she got up to leave.

Just then, she heard Madame Sing grunt and yank the front door of the studio open, shouting at some boys who had obviously been peeking inside the windows trying to catch a glimpse of a girl in a leotard. The older woman would be gone for at least an hour, chasing down the teenagers; she was the determined sort. Madame Sing never let anyone get away with anything.

Katara quietly dropped her bag on the bench again, hastily pulling her pointe shoes back out. She stuffed the lamb's wool back inside to cushion her toes and shoved her feet inside. After lacing the ribbons up her ankles and calves once more, Katara slipped back into the studio.

She made her way across the room to the small record player next to Madame Sing's bench. She pulled a record from the shelf under the new invention and prepared the music. After she'd sent the black plate spinning, Katara hurried to the right corner of the room to take her starting position.

Extending her right leg in front of her and her arms above her head, Katara waited for a few moments for the music to begin. Before long, a sad sort of song started, a sweet violin solo. Katara took an exaggerated breath for the sake of her soon-to-be audience and then, she danced.

Aang pushed the door of Madame Sing's Ballet House open, tentatively peeking inside. Music flowed from the inside, a melancholy melody that made him long for Katara. He knew this song. It was appropriately named Requiem for a Melancholy Dragon, famous for the death scene from Love Amongst the Dragons. He especially loved the piece because it was the first play he and Katara had seen together as a couple and she'd given him a record of the soundtrack for his birthday last month. He adored it. He adored her.

Pushing the door open completely, Aang airbent himself across the room so that he landed lightly at the indoor studio window. He peeked inside the room and was astonished to see Katara in a black leotard and pink tights dancing sadly around the floor. She was en pointe, gracefully acting the part of a dying dragon. Mournful, Katara made an attitude turn, fell out of it into coupe, and then sprang up in a perfect arabesque. Sweat glistened on her strong arms and her beautiful face as she bourée'd off stage, gently moving her arms in a sorrowful way to end the dance with the music.

Aang stood awestruck at the window, staring at Katara as she collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving. He was frozen with amazement but upon seeing her fall to the floor, Aang snapped awake and burst into the room to kneel beside the exhausted teen.

Katara, who was sprawled across the floor in a spread eagle, opened her eyes to see who it was at her side. She grinned, propping herself up on her elbows when she realized that it was Aang.

"Are you okay?" Aang asked her softly, spreading his hand on her back to support her.

Katara chuckled; it was always so cute when he got this way. She smiled even wider, "Oh, I'm fine, just sore and tired. I put my all into that last go."

Pleased that his girlfriend was unhurt, Aang grinned back. Then his eyes widened, "Katara, that was amazing! Incredible! I didn't know you had gotten that good! You're a prodigy on stage as well as in the water!"

Blushing at his praise, Katara replied, "Thanks, Aang, I've been working really hard with Madame Sing. Plus, this stuff just makes me happy, so that might be part of it."

Aang waggled his eyebrows at her, a silly expression on his face, "But not as happy as I make you, right?"

"Oh, of course not!" Katara giggled at her boyfriend. He was always so charming. She hoped he never stopped acting that way.

Moving to get up from the floor, Katara reached to grab the wooden bar attached to the wall in front of her. Aang saw her efforts to stand and instantly scooped her up, bridle style.

Grinning a toothy smile, Aang settled Katara against his chest, "You've walked enough today."

"Oh, spirits, you're such a goofball!" Katara knew he was kidding; he was just teasing her. She let him carry her back to the dressing room, anyway.

Aang sat down on the bench next to her bag but didn't let his girlfriend stand up. Instead, he placed his forehead against hers and let out a long sigh. Katara had her arms wrapped around his neck and he inhaled the salty scent of her perspiration. Even if she was sweaty and tired, Aang thought she smelled good. She always smelled good. Like fresh ice and cold water.

"Aang, I probably smell like penguin seal. After it's been eating skunk fish."

"Nuh-uh…"

"I feel like I do."

"Fine…"

She slid from his lap and set herself down next to him to undo the laces around her legs once again. She pulled her shoes off of her sore feet and tossed them into the bag on the floor, not even bothering to wrap them correctly.

Grabbing the strap of the satchel once more, Katara stood and looked to Aang. The young man rose with her and entwined his fingers in hers, gently leading her out of the studio and into the crowded streets of Ba Sing Se.


End file.
